


Twisted

by vapidlex



Series: The Twisted Anthology [2]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Far in the Future AU, Future AU, Gen, WindClan, WindClan Centric, rewriting from FanFiction.net
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22950256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vapidlex/pseuds/vapidlex
Summary: Born to an esteemed pair of WindClan warriors, Twistedkit struggles living up to her family's expectations with a deformed front paw. Despite her setbacks, the young she-cat begins to understand that she alone has the power to uncover the twisted truth of surrounding Clans, and the corruption within her own. Darkness seems to spread throughout the territories like a disease, and Twistedkit will soon come to find that the source is in the unlikeliest of places.(This is a total rewrite of "Twisted," a story I wrote for FanFiction.net in 2013 and never finished)
Series: The Twisted Anthology [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649215
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	Twisted

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome back to Twisted! For all my old readers moving over from FanFiction, welcome back! Hope you guys like the new spin on Twisted! For all my new readers, thanks for giving this story a try! 
> 
> I began writing Twisted in 2013 when I was 11 years old on FFnet, and gave up about 30 chapters in around 2015. I recently decided that I wanted to continue the story, but not with the plot line I had begun previously. So this is a total rewrite! If you're interested in reading the original (and you're willing to suffer through my middle school drabble), check out my version of Twisted posted under my old FFnet pseudonym, Rainheart Warrior!
> 
> I have a lot of plans for where I'd like to take this story, many of which are far more set in stone than in Twisted 1.0! And I keep rehashing different ideas in an attempt to make the story better and better, which is why I deleted a few chapters I had already posted up on here and started again. This time I plan to follow a more definitive timeline!
> 
> Thank you all for joining me on this new journey, and I hope you enjoy reading Twisted 2.0!

The world seemed to bow and heave with the fury of the storm that raged outside the woven walls. The tendrils of the den lurched under the weight of the downpour, battering the camp with relentless persistence. Beneath the roar of the thunder came the sound of paws squelching and slopping through the thick, clinging mud of the clearing. Intermittent shouts could be heard between the staves of lightning tearing through the earth. There was no safety from the ferocity of the wind, for the moor lay defenseless, a rolling expanse of hills with no cover to lessen the force of the storm.

  
Yet within the little den lay a sight even more depressing than the angry gray mists tumbling over the hills. In the midst of the space lie a slender tabby queen, her fur once gleaming with beauty, now dulled by exhaustion. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her belly heaving with the effort of kitting. “Just a little longer, Runningshine,” a pretty young she-cat promised, pressing cobwebs to the queen’s belly, slick with blood. Her pale rosy coat gradually became stained with splotches of sticky red. “You’re doing great, just breathe for me.”

  
“Swiftbolt… where is… where is Swiftbolt?”

  
“Outside, dear, he’s outside.” The soothing voice of a silver queen murmured from a few mouse-lengths away, her tail curled protectively around the tiny little bundles nestled at her belly, their small bodies still spiky and new after having been kitted only a few sunrises prior.

  
_Curse this timing_ , the pale she-cat thought to herself irritably. Runningshine had begun her kitting in the dead of night, just as a furious, thunderous monsoon had crashed down upon the lake. It was so dark within the den that the medicine cat could hardly see what she was doing.

  
“Can I help?” piped a young voice from another corner of the nursery. The she-cat looked up at the sound of the voice for only a moment, catching sight of a bright splash of white in the darkness. “I know cobwebs are good for bleeding!”

  
“Hush, Snowkit,” came the hiss of another queen. “Do not distract Featherleaf while she’s working. You’re far too young to see so much blood.”

  
“But Dewfrost—”

  
“Cut it out, Snowkit!” came another young voice, and the head of a second kit emerged from behind the snowy white queen, her bright blue eyes gazing at her sister.

  
“Whatever, Meadowkit!” Snowkit responded indignantly.

  
“Please just let me work,” came Featherleaf’s exasperated reply, still feverishly washing away the blood with clump after clump of moss, yet despite her efforts the flow did not cease. “If only I had an apprentice,” she grumbled irritably under her breath, thinking how timely this wayward kitting had been, a few mere moons before she could apprentice Snowkit.

  
The silver queen stuttered out a query. “Will Runningshine be alright?”

  
“Leave Featherleaf be, Mistfire,” Dewfrost hissed again. “You’ll upset your kits if you get too worked up.”

  
Suddenly, a shadow fell over the already darkened den as a figure obstructed the meager light streaming in through the entrance. “What’s happening? Is Runningshine alright?”

  
“Swiftbolt!” Featherleaf exclaimed. “For StarClan’s sake, I told Ryewind and Burrtail to keep you outside!”

  
“Burrtail can’t control Swiftbolt,” Mistfire jumped to the tom’s defense.

  
Dewfrost growled at her denmate. “Great StarClan, Mistfire, know when to stop!”

  
“Enough!” Featherleaf spat, silencing the residents. “I can barely think with all your yowling! Swiftbolt, if you’re going to be in here, get away from the entrance! I need light!”

  
A panicked mew sounded from outside the den. “Sorry, Featherleaf! We couldn’t stop him!”

  
“You did your best, Ryewind,” Featherleaf sighed, then brushed the space beside her with her tail. “Here, Swiftbolt, sit and comfort your mate.”

  
The warrior obeyed, his leaf-fall yellow eyes gleaming in the lowlight. As the dim glow of the moon through the furious gray clouds filtered in, his thin black-and-white pelt came into view. “Runningshine? Can you hear me?”

  
The queen did not respond. Her blue eyes had glazed, and her pants grew more raspy with each passing moment. Featherleaf nosed him away from the work area. “If you’re going to be in here, I’ll need you to stay out of my way.”

  
Swiftbolt didn’t even spare the medicine cat a sideways glance. His eyes were fixed on Runningshine’s anguished face, twisted with pain. “Runningshine?”

  
“She can hear you, but barely,” Featherleaf informed him, frantically alternating between wiping away blood and kneading the queen’s distended belly. “There are complications, and she’s in a lot of pain. She’s beginning to lose consciousness.”

  
At this, Swiftbolt raised his panicked gaze. “What kind of complications? What’s happening to her, why is she bleeding so much? Mistfire and Dewfrost didn’t bleed like this when they had their kits!”

  
“The kits aren’t in the proper place,” Featherleaf explained quickly, continuing to knead Runningshine’s stomach. “I fear they’re caught. I’m trying to move them.”

  
“I can help clean away the blood,” Snowkit offered again, quieter this time.

  
“Snowkit!” Dewfrost hissed again.

  
With another motion of Featherleaf’s paws, two tiny wet bundles of fuzz slid out onto the nest. “Two! There’s two. Swiftbolt, come here.” When the tom didn’t move, Featherleaf could not suppress a spit of frustration. “If you care about your mate, you will listen to me!”

  
The tom jerked his head away from his mate and stared, dazed, at his kits. “Are they alive?”

  
“That’s up to you,” Featherleaf panted, cleaning away more blood. “Get over here and give them to Dewfrost and Mistfire.”

  
Swiftbolt swallowed and obeyed, grasping his children gently by their scruffs and setting them at each queen’s paws. As if on instinct, both mothers began feverishly rasping their tongues over the kits’ delicate bodies, washing the life into their limbs. In a few moments, tiny mewls broke through the thunder. “They’re alive!” Mistfire cried happily. “Oh, the little miracles!”

  
“We’re not done,” Featherleaf cut in grimly, watching the way Runningshine’s eyes had begun to close. “Runningshine, I need you to hang on a moment longer.”

  
“What’s wrong?” Swiftbolt ventured, eying the medicine cat with concern. “What else is there to do?”

  
“There’s one more,” Featherleaf murmured, continuing to knead. Doubts cut into her mind. _This one’s all tangled up_. “This last kit may have caused the abnormality.”

  
The nursery drew in a collective breath of apprehension as Featherleaf paused, gathering her thoughts. The medicine cat screwed her eyes shut, summoning the teachings of her mentor. “Where to place my paws…”

  
Swiftbolt began to bristle impatiently. “Well? Are you napping? Do your job!”

  
Featherleaf’s eyes snapped open, and she bit back a stinging retort, gazing back down at Runningshine’s haggard form. The queen was losing energy, and fast. “There are points we reach…” she began through steadying breaths, “wherein the actions of a medicine cat no longer have any power over the fate of her patient.”

  
The tiniest whimper came from Mistfire, which was quickly shushed by Dewfrost. Swiftbolt stared disbelievingly at the medicine cat. “You can’t be serious.”

  
“I’m doing what I can.” Featherleaf continued to knead, pressing harder on Runningshine’s belly. She felt emotion well in the back of her throat, but she pushed it down. Inwardly, she knew she would only save one life out of the two tonight.

  
Swiftbolt rounded on Featherleaf, spitting furiously. “I won’t accept it! You can’t expect me to pardon your admittance of failure. You are a medicine cat! You will save her life!”

  
“I can only try,” Featherleaf replied, and in that instance, Runningshine’s eyes fluttered, her sky-blue gaze focusing blearily on the face of her mate.

  
“Swiftbolt?” her weak mew stammered, punctuated by a series of wheezes.

  
“I’m right here,” the tom promised, crouching beside his mate and covering her forehead in comforting rasps of his tongue. “I’m not leaving.”

  
“Good, good…” Runningshine’s voice began to trail away. “Swiftbolt, we have to—” her words suddenly faltered, replaced by an agonized groan as her body spasmed. Swiftbolt gazed on in unabashed horror.

  
More blood trickled onto the nest, and with the flow fell the final tiny body. Featherleaf peered at the tiny kit with a grimace; she was small and feeble, with a crippled paw. “Oh StarClan,” she whispered to herself, “have you any mercy on this helpless new life?”

  
As if in answer, the kitten twitched, its body pleading to be warmed. Featherleaf was brought back to her senses, handing the kit to Dewfrost. “Warm her, hurry.”

  
Dewfrost nodded obediently, having already nestled the first kit into the crook of her tail. Snowkit gazed at the kit with wide blue eyes. “Is she okay?”

  
“She’ll be fine,” Featherleaf promised, and turned her attention back to Runningshine. With a sigh, she patted more cobwebs to the wound. “All I can buy her is time, now.”

  
Swiftbolt let out an anguished groan. “No, that’s not fair!” As he cried out, more thunder battered the den, shaking the walls.

  
“Names,” coughed Runningshine again, her strength returning in tiny bursts before crumbling away like the unsteady bank of a surging river. “Swiftbolt… their names…”

  
“I don’t care about that,” Swiftbolt murmured, pressing his nose to her neck. “I want to tell you how much I love you, Runningshine, please.”

  
“Names…” Runningshine repeated feebly, and Swiftbolt looked up at Featherleaf with hopelessness in his gaze. Mistfire watched in horror, her tail shielding her own litter from the scene, while Dewfrost had turned her head away, pulling her daughters closer to her in a tight embrace.

  
The medicine cat swallowed back her emotions and dipped her head. “Heed her final wish, Swiftbolt. Name your children together.”

  
Swiftbolt let out another choked cry, grasping his kits in his teeth and placing them at their mother’s belly. He hardly paid attention to them once he had set them down, for he shoved his face right back into the fur of his trembling mate’s neck.

  
“Good… there you are,” she murmured weakly, gazing at her children with a fondness saved only for a mother and her kits. “You name one,” she breathed to her mate.

  
Swiftbolt spared the kits a momentary glance. “Stripekit,” he muttered, his voice devoid of affection, “for the one that looks like you.”

  
Runningshine let out a wheeze that sounded as though it were meant to be a chuckle. “I like it.” She drew in a few more gasps before craning to look at the next kit. “Stormkit… for the tom.”

  
Featherleaf noted his stormy gray pelt. “To remember the storm he came from,” she added sympathetically.

  
Runningshine smiled, closing her eyes again. “Yes, yes.”

  
“There’s one more,” Featherleaf murmured, nosing the last she-kit.

  
Runningshine opened her eyes again, slower this time. She turned her gaze to her daughter, peering at her through eyes glazed with pain and exhaustion. “Her paw,” she wheezed suddenly.

  
Featherleaf glanced down again at the kit, her front paw wrenched at an awkward angle. Her little tabby body was reminiscent of her mother’s — perhaps not quite so strikingly similar as her sister’s, but holding resemblance nonetheless.

  
“Mhm,” Swiftbolt murmured, hardly paying attention.

  
“It’s twisted.” Runningshine paused after that, and a sigh escaped her. The spasms that shook her body began to still. “I’m so tired.”

  
“Close your eyes, Runningshine,” Featherleaf delicately instructed. “Rest, now.”

  
“I love you,” she breathed at last to her mate. With that, her eyes fell shut, and her gasps ceased.

  
“Wait… no.” Swiftbolt jerked his head away. “No, no, no, no!”

  
Featherleaf bowed her head. “She walks with StarClan now.”

  
“No! She can’t! She has to stay!” Swiftbolt gave his mate’s body a hard shove. “Don’t give up, Runningshine! You’re the most determined warrior I know! You’re so strong, with so much life left to live!”

  
“Swiftbolt…” Featherleaf began, but she trailed off as Swiftbolt collapsed, resting his head atop his mate’s shoulder while sobbing gasps escaped his body. The storm had begun to quiet, and only the steady thudding of raindrops punctuated Swiftbolt’s cries.

  
“It’s not fair,” he choked out.

  
“Oh, Swiftbolt,” Dewfrost murmured sympathetically, pulling Snowkit and Meadowkit closer. Both she-kits had been stunned into silence.

  
“Runningshine!” Mistfire cried suddenly, hiding her face in her paws. “Oh, my dear friend…”

  
“Her ancestors will guide her,” Featherleaf promised comfortingly, shifting to press her side against Swiftbolt. “She will not know pain. She will watch her kits from the stars, with you to raise them in her memory.”

  
Swiftbolt raised his head again, his face rumpled with agony. “Twistedkit.”

  
Featherleaf blinked. “What?”

  
“Her name is Twistedkit.” He jerked his head toward his youngest daughter. “It was the last word Runningshine used to describe her.” His lips raised to reveal the faintest sign of a snarl. “If it weren’t for that kit, my mate would still be alive.”

  
Featherleaf straightened. “Swiftbolt, you know it’s not that simple—”

  
“Quiet!” he snapped, fur bristling. “I never wanted kits in the first place. Now, that one lives while Runningshine lies dead before me!” Swiftbolt pressed his muzzle into her neck again, drinking in her scent. “Oh, Runningshine, why?”

  
Featherleaf swallowed again, lifting each newborn by the scruff and placing them at Mistfire’s belly. “I know you already have three kits to feed, but Dewfrost’s milk has long since dried. Could you suckle these two?”

  
Mistfire gazed down at the offspring of Runningshine and Swiftbolt, a sad expression in her yellow eyes. “For Runningshine,” she responded simply, pulling the three kits to her belly.

  
“I’ll help you look after them,” Dewfrost promised. “Snowkit and Meadowkit will be apprenticed soon, so I don’t have to watch them quite so closely.”

  
“I can help out,” Snowkit added, turning to Featherleaf. “I can help you.”

  
“Thank you, Snowkit,” Featherleaf replied, not finding the strength to remind the she-kit that she had nearly a moon and a half before she could truly help her with anything. She knew Snowkit vied for a future in medicine. Featherleaf turned back to Swiftbolt. “The rain has lessened. Let us clean Runningshine’s body and move her to the clearing for her Clan to mourn her properly.”

  
“WindClan will honor her,” Dewfrost added.

  
Featherleaf nodded, wiping away the scarlet stains. Swiftbolt made no motion to assist, only whimpering now and again as he desperately drunk the remains of Runningshine’s sweet scent. It was not long before Ryewind and Burrtail reentered the nursery, and Featherleaf’s heart ached at the way their steps faltered as they gazed upon the motionless body of their friend. They hauled Runningshine gently into the center of the clearing, where the sprinkles of rain continued to wash away the remains of the blood on her fur. Featherleaf watched the vigil her Clan kept from the mouth of the den, glancing back every so often to peer at the new kits. She raised her face to the sky, crowded with dark clouds that turned the darkest shade of red with the rising sun, and yet, the rain continued to fall, as though the whole world were grieving for the lost soul.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this prologue! I spent all night writing nonstop because I couldn't get these ideas out of my head. I hope you liked it, and I'll see all of you in the next chapter!


End file.
